Transference
by The Scarlet Rose
Summary: When he opens his eyes, she is looking at him, studying his skin, her eyes tracing patterns of the lyrium markings over his flesh. "The really go all around don't they?" She says softly, not really speaking to him "All the way to the core." FenrisXIsabela


Disclaimer: No, I don't own Dragon Age or the characters listed here. If I did, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfiction with them. So, props go to Bioware.

The heat is stifling. He doesn't remember it being so hot, remember everything being so _close_. There is weight bearing down on him and she is there. And all he can think of is the cold air of his mansion, the cool breeze blowing through the window at night carrying faint whiffs of smoke. He is used to the coldness and the solidarity there. The whispers through the trees bringing back faint memories of his past life. Of Danarius and Hadriana and shackles and chains. Of being poked and prodded and marketed off like a dog. And in that instant he is writhing against her. Pushing and kicking to be free to be alone once more.

But she won't let him. His skin is glowing with power, with rage, with _fear_ and she doesn't run. Doesn't flee, only leans down and kisses him for it. Kisses his markings with such tenderness and necessity that Fenris almost hates her for it. Hates her for her simplicity, hates her beauty and warmth and the feelings it is causing in him.

He is struggling and she doesn't care. It isn't what he wants, and she knows it. Isabela traps him between thighs firm from years of hard work and carrying twice as much weight as any man. His skin looks pale compared to hers. So white and marked and hers so dark and smooth. Like some sort of yin-yang symbol, their features trailing together in some never ending circle of completion.

Her eyes meet his and there's stillness. He can remember how they got there. Taste the remnants of the cheap drink on his lips, remember the knowing smirk she gave him above her hand of cards, feel the warmth of her body as she'd pressed to his. She still smelled of the sea, of salt water and open air, even after being grounded all these years.

She is truly something beautiful, just the right level of curvaceousness and warmth and he can't help but stare, mouth slightly ajar, as if seeing her truly for the first time. And before he knows it, his hand, the hand that hasn't willingly touched anyone in years, is reaching out to caress a face illuminated by moonlight. He smirks, chuckles a bit when she looks away as if embarrassed, and it strikes him as odd.

"You are a strange one." He says, a smile toying at the edges of his lips.

"Oh? How so?"

"You feign such bravado. Such attitude. But here, with me, you blush like any woman."

She raises an eyebrow at that, and faster than he can react, her hands are trapping his above his head, and to his surprise he _lets_ her. And there is that grin again, the subtle but effective narrowing of the eyes.

"You'll find, dear elf..." And her face is so near his and she smells so sweet "That I am far from just 'any woman'."

And her lips crash down on his and suddenly his hands are everywhere. Tugging and pulling and ripping the laces from her corset and undoing her hair until it is spilling around her shoulders and she is bare beneath him, panting with wild eyes.

She reaches for his armor and he tenses. This time, she hesitates waiting until he is ready. Fenris kneels before her on his expansive bed, closing his eyes and he can feel her shift, her skin and nose brush his and an almost chaste kiss presses against his lips. Hands rough with callouses move with tenderness that he wouldn't have expected and nimble fingers find the clasps and bindings to his armor gently pulling off each layer until he is bare before her, and he can feel the overpriced sheets and cool air on his skin.

When he opens his eyes, she is looking at him, studying his skin, her eyes tracing patterns of the lyrium markings over his flesh.

"The really go all around don't they?" She says softly, not really speaking to him "All the way to the core."

And it is his turn to flush. Her fingers find a patch of flesh and the raised marking there, tracing it to where it met and merged with others over his heart, coming to rest there for a moment, feeling the rhythm.

Thump. Thump.

And she was beautiful in the moon light and every part of him was stirring.

Thump. Thump.

So calm and so still. Not afraid. Not running. Not questioning. Just...

Thump. Thump.

Just Isabela.

His lips are on hers and her legs wrap around his, flipping them until she is on top and the sheets lay mangled around them. Her fingers find his, gripping them as he enters her, and her entire body seems to hum. Her back arches and she moans, thighs trembling and gripping around him and they fit together like puzzle pieces, jagged and frayed, yet somehow perfect side by side.

And for a moment, everything fades away and there is just this. Just her. Just her hips and her hands and her soft, sweet, wet core quivering around him. He he trusts into her. Feeding her his frustrations and rage and fear. Every image of his abuse at the hands of the magisters, the feeling of the lyrium constantly coursing through his veins. His want and his _need_ for contact, for friends and adoration, for _something, __**everything.**_

And she takes it all and more. Her body rolling with each thrust until he feels he is nothing but his cock pouring pain and obscenity into her, and watching it be transformed into something magical. To come out of her mouth in gasps and sighs and pleas. The lyrium markings being transformed into her dusky skin and heaving breasts. Everything ugly pouring out of him and into her, churning and shape-shifting into beautiful imperfection, until she is shaking, trembling around him and his fingers dig roughly into the skin of her hips to help her keep up with the brutal pace he is setting. It'll bruise tomorrow, but it'll fade, like all things do.

Her body convulses and trembles, and she moans. Shaking with the culmination of pure pleasure and Fenris' pain coursing through her, and Fenris thinks he has never seen anything more beautiful, before he too is coming. Coming so hard he can't breath and it feels like everything is gone and in a rush fleeting memories come back. The touch of his mothers skin, the color of his sister's hair, warm sunlight on an unmarred face.

It takes him a while to come back down to earth, back to the bedroom where Isabela is collapsed on top of him, gasping swear words and nonsense phrases. He realizes his markings are glowing, though he isn't sure why, and thinks to stop them when he feels Isabela's lips and tongue and fingers tracing them again, finding the path back to his face, to where her golden eyes meet his.

They don't talk. They don't need to. They simply lay side by side, their arms draped loosely around each other, more out of a sense of obligation than anything. Fenris notes that he can feel her sweat drying on him, still taste her lips on his. And in the morning, she is still there, standing nude in front of his window, warming herself in the sunlight like a cat.

He stretches his hand towards her, but she doesn't see, instead, faces outward, focusing, ready to face the day.

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A.N. It should be noted that this is my first Dragon Age fic, not to mention my first fanfic in quite some time, so be gentle with me. While walking around, I caught some party banter in which Fenris and Isabela mentioned hooking up. I realized that there wasn't much fiction for this pairing, and had to hammer something out.


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